A New Beginning
by Slyluv
Summary: Harry just wants to be left alone after the war so he goes to a muggle bar to drown out old memories... he just never expected one to walk through that door. Yaoi, HD, angst.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter, a simple name of a simple man who just happened to be the savior of the wizarding world. He never wanted to be anything special. No, he wanted to be Harry. Just Harry. There were a few who didn't understand that though. They didn't care; they just wanted to worship the path he walked on and didn't give a damn if he didn't like it.

This green-eyed hero hadn't had any peace since he had defeated the dark Lord Voldemort, formerly Tom Riddle, about three months ago. He hadn't done it on his own though. There was very much a team effort to kill the bastard, not that Potter's public cared. As far as they were concerned, Harry was the only bloody one who deserved publicity. The only time that order members were asked anything, it was about how they felt about Harry or if they knew how Harry did it.

Truthfully, even Harry didn't really know how he had done it. He remembered that he had been called while eating ice cream in Diagon Alley trying to ignore the stares and groups of giggling girls walking by him. There seemed to be a whole lot of girls doing that but surprisingly there were guys doing this too. That's a whole different thing though. Anyways, he had been eating in Diagon Alley when he felt the magical tattoo for the order over his heart warm a bit telling him that there was to be an emergency meeting within the next twenty minutes. He had quickly finished the muggle Rocky Road that had been specially made for him because of his status in society and apparated to 12 Grimwauld Place.

They still hadn't found anywhere better to hold the meetings so Harry had quickly, or so it seemed, gotten over its connections to his Godfather, Sirius Black, and the memories it brought back. He had to if he wanted some semblance of a life, even if it was a rotten one. He still grieved when no one was around, which wasn't often. Dumbledore had members of the order tailing him 24/7 after his last year in Hogwarts. He couldn't afford to have his "Golden Boy" killed without warning. He needed Harry to save them, plain and simple.

Entering Grimwauld he had found Dumbledore who had said three simple words that Harry remembered to this day. "It is time." It was time for Harry to walk to his death or to finally be free. It was time to confront Voldemort and avenge his parent's deaths and the deaths of Cedric and Sirius or for Voldemort to have his vengeance. It was time for Harry to face his destiny, his fate, and finally get a chance to be "normal".

All Harry remembered after that was walking into battle, the sword of Gryffindor that Albus Dumbledore had given him on his seventeenth birthday firmly strapped across his back. Hermione had been to his right and Ron to his left, the rest of the club that Harry had set up in his fifth year, the D.A. or Dumbledore's Army, followed closely behind. Surprisingly all except Cho Chang had survived. She was finally where she had wanted to be since fourth year. Harry had been her friend and they had tried to date a couple times, but she had always ended up talking about Cedric Diggory. Harry didn't like to reminisce about Cedric's death, but every time Cho mentioned him, Harry was reminded that he would never be up to her standards as Cedric had been. There would never be another Diggory for her, even if he were the champion of the wizarding world.

Half way through his sixth year, Harry noticed that he had never really been attracted to another girl after Cho, and that she didn't even appeal to him anymore. He finally admitted this to Hermione and she said something that he now found extremely funny and unnerving at the same time now. She had looked at him with a half smile and a raised eyebrow and said in a sure voice, "Well, Harry. Perhaps you would prefer your own Diggory."

How true it had been, only he didn't want Diggory. He wanted someone who didn't grovel every time he walked past or didn't think him a God. He wanted someone who treated him like everyone else. There were only a few people that he could think of who did that. Ron being one of them, Ron was his friend, though. He wasn't interested in him that way, which the redhead knew, not to mention that Ron and Hermione were now engaged. Then there was a certain greasy potions master, Severus Snape, from Hogwarts, too old and too much of a git. But then there were two blond gray-eyed men, a father and son. Harry wouldn't object to being with the youngest, but there was years of conflict there and memories he preferred to leave buried with his memories of the war.

So about three months ago, Harry had finally led his people into battle. A battle that he couldn't remember after walking onto the field, It was all a blur. He could remember killing a few death-eaters but when he had gotten to Voldemort… he just didn't remember. Hermione, ever the bookworm, said she had read a few muggle books on things like this. "It's called repression Harry. Freud claimed that when someone experiences a really traumatizing event such as murder, rape, etcetera, they might unconsciously block the memory."

All Harry wanted to do now was leave the world where he was so known for an hour so and be alone. He was depressed and, reasonably so, wanted to become intoxicated and leave his troubles behind. Harry couldn't do this at a wizarding bar. The only place he would get any peace was at a muggle bar.

So that's where he went, to a muggle bar by the name of "Chessy's Pub". It wasn't a very sophisticated place, a bit run down with dingy, peeling, flowered wallpaper on the walls. The counter looked very old, as if it would collapse if the weight of anything were placed on it. The red leather seats of the stools were all cracked.

He quickly chose one of the stools in better condition and stared at the grain of the wood counter.

"Well whadya know," a plump middle-aged woman with a kind face walked in from a door behind the counter. "Not often I get customers here. Da ones I do is often runaways or people lookin' ta get away." She noticed that the man hadn't heard her and waved her hand in front of his face causing Harry to jump. "Ello," she offered her hand, "I'm Chessy, what can I do ya fer?"

"Anything strong."

Chessy nodded and went about mixing things that Harry didn't recognize. "Here try this. Ya don go ta bars much, do ya?"

He took a sip of the alcoholic drink and grimaced, forcing himself to take a second sip of the fowl thing. It tasted worse than the skele-grow potion did his second year. "How'd you know?"

"If ya had been, ya woulda known what ta ask fer. Simple deductive reasonin', or whatever ya call it. Da only question is what brought ya 'ere. Are you wanted or sumptin'?"

"No, nothing like that miss-"

"Please, call me Chessy. Miss makes me feel old."

"Alright. Chessy, it's nothing like that. I'm just looking to get away."

"Well what can be so bad in your life? You're handsome, a gentleman - from what I can tell, ya got looks, girls must be hangin' off of ya n' maybe a few guys. Guy like you has gotsta have a girl."

Harry snorted rather rudely and placed his face in his hands while rubbing his temples. "That's exactly the problem, Chessy. They may be hanging off of me, yes, but I don't want someone who idolizes me as they do. I want someone who thinks I'm as normal as can be. Not that I would like a girl anyways."

Chessy smiled, "that's understandable, Mr.?"

"Harry Potter. Please call me Harry."

"Of course, Harry. So are you-"

"Yes, I am, I found out in- when I was sixteen. Girls just didn't appeal to me." That summer Harry had received his first kiss from a guy, his first love. Yes, he had loved Cho, but that had been different. His love for Cho had been more like a friendship. With this boy... it was like a magnetic attraction.

Harry fought back tears, shaking his head to clear it of any thoughts of that boy. It had been a long time ago, they had never officially broken up and there were still a lot of things left unresolved. It would never happen, they were too different, complete opposites. Then why did thoughts of him still drive Harry completely mad with desire? 'Forget about it,' he told himself, 'It's a thing of the past... but you still dream of him, Harry. It doesn't matter. Nothing ever will again.'

Harry turned around as a bell on the door rang out, just to have his mouth practically drop off of its hinge. The object of his obsession had just walked into the bar. What were the odds? Of all the muggle bars, another wizard had walked right into Harry's?

Harry quickly covered his surprise with a glare filled with hatred, "what the hell are you doing here?"

"What does it bloody look like Potter? I was just about to get wasted, as usual. Not that you give a damn. Hello, Chessy."

"You're right I don't give a damn," at least he shouldn't.


	2. Chapter 2

"Maybe I'll just take a bottle or two to go, Chessy," the flaxen haired beauty told the barmaid."

Harry turned to face him again, "Don't leave on account of me, Malfoy."

"I'm not leaving on account of you, Potter," the stormy eyed male replied. "I have better things to do." Why did his drawl still have that bloody affect on Harry? Harry was over him; at least that was what he claimed.

Harry turned back to his drink, "good." He took one glance at Chessy before downing the rest of the drink. "Can I get another one of these, Chessy?" The woman nodded and quickly set to making another.

"Trying to get smashed Potter?" Draco sneered, "What's so bad now? Get a paper cut? Girl kiss you?" Draco sat down two seats away from Harry.

"I thought you were bloody leaving?" the Gryffindor growled.

"Manners Potter. I asked you a question first. I only changed my mind. Now you."

"To your first question. What else would I be doing in a bar other than getting trashed, Malfoy? I mean, seriously, the last time you were this dense was the summer before..." Harry trailed off and gulped at his second drink. "Anyways, I don't know why you care about what's driven me here."

Draco's eyes had darkened when Harry reminded him of that summer, the summer before Harry and him had called a 'truce'. It had gone farther a few months after that. Neither knew what had exactly driven them apart. It just happened, they lost contact and both assumed the other had, wordlessly, dumped the other. "How would you know what I care about, Potter?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Malfoy."

"What Potter? Don't want to talk about why you broke up with me?"

Harry twirled in his seat to face the slate-eyed man, nearly spilling his drink, "Why I broke up with you? What the hell are you talking about? You dumped me!"

"No, my father said you came to the manor to break it off. He said you told him to tell me 'it's over'." Draco replied keeping a semblance of cool. Harry knew how tormented he was though. There were little signs, the pad of his fingers running over his thumbnail, a slight tick in this left eye that was barely noticeable to those unacquainted with the blond.

"No Malfoy. That day I came to the manor to ask you something. He said that you didn't want to see me and that you asked him to break it off."

"That's not-"

Harry looked down into his drink, "You know it is Malfoy. Your father never did care for you being gay. Not to mention he didn't like that your boyfriend was a half blood."

"I never cared what he said, Potter. Even if he did, why would you believe a thing my father said? We were going to move in together. Why would I break up with you then?"

"I was a ball of nerves that day. I don't know why I believed Lucius. I was too nervous to think straight."

"Nervous?" Draco still hadn't sipped at his drink, "what was there to be nervous about?"

Harry hesitated, "I said I came to ask you a question. I was afraid of being rejected."

Draco unknowingly snickered, "What stupid question could have been that bad?" Harry knew, after as much time as he had spent in the attractive blonde's presence, that the snicker only meant he was uncomfortable. Yet he ignored it and pressed on.

He looked Draco straight in the eyes. "It's no matter now… Draco."

The other man ignored the use of his given name, "fine, well, do you think... do you think there would have been any chance that we could have been together now if my... father had not interfered… Harry?" Draco suddenly found the crystal of his glass fascinating while Harry found his equally so.

"I don't really know. Anything could have happened. You could have left me after all of the bloody publicity that I'm getting, or dumped me right before I went off to slay old Voldy." He sighed, visibly disturbed.

Draco looked at him with a brow arching elegantly in question, "all of your conclusions seem to have _me_ breaking up with _you_ Harry. May I ask why?"

"I... well... you see... it's because... because I can't see me having broken up with you. My feelings were too deep. Actually they s- erm."

"But you're over me right?"

"Sure… of course, it's been long enough. And you're over me?" Harry tried hard not to look disappointed at the answer he knew would fall between them.

"Well, yea," Draco replied, not looking at all commited to his answer. Harry was busily inspecting the countertop so he did not see. "What happened exactly... that we never contacted each other? That we... drifted apart, as we did?"

"I don't know exactly… It was a strange way, though …when we got together." For the first time that day, a smile showed on the graduated Gryffindor's face and he giggled. "I still can't believe you did that. It was highly unusual of you."

"Yes, Harry. Let's not dwell on the fact that for once that year I actually showed a minute bit of care for you."

Harry was weeping in a corner of a corridor at his school, it was their sixth year. He had broken down after seeing something that had reminded him of Sirius, his godfather, who had died near the end of his fifth year. No matter what people said, he still blamed himself for his death.

"Mr. Potter, I do believe you should be in your bed at this hour of night. I pray tell you give me a reason. I hope you can make it good. I suppose you think you're better than everyone else. Stand up, let's go to my office, I need to assign you a detention."

Snape had caught him. The only thing was that Harry was so deep in his mourning earlier that he had lost track of time as people wandered past his dark corner of the world. All that had existed was his grief, that is, until Snape had broken his concentration... bastard.

"Surely you can move quicker than this Potter? Hurry now; I have a student meeting me at my office. I want to get this over with quickly."

"Yes sir," Harry didn't blame his professor any more, for Sirius' death, like he had been so willing to do last year. He found that he really respected the man for all he had been through and recognized his attempts to protect him over the years. The man had been through much more than Harry would ever know over the years and frankly he was amazed that he was able to spy and keep his secrets as well as he was able to. He was like an idol for Harry, he could only hope to have that much courage when he faced Voldemort.

Snape glided into his office, "Ahh... you're here already. Good, good. Just let me assign Potter, here, a detention quickly."

"What did you do now, Potter? Why are you out so bloody late?" Draco didn't pretend not to notice the tear stains around the Gryffindor's puffy red eyes. "Why were you crying?" For some reason, he just wanted to reach over and wipe away his tears- where the hell had that come from? Wipe away Potter's tears? That was a ridiculous idea if he had ever heard one, and he had heard many.


End file.
